TheThing's Fireside Chats are back with a brand new story. Well, it's still kind of new; I wrote it for the Monthly Writing Contest that ended November 2nd, so I'm a bit late in posting it in my blog. I'll also say that this is not my best work; I can't seem to write horror stories too well. But I'll let you decide that.

The basis for the story is real. Scientists are really trying to grow organs. I just took that idea to a new level. So, enjoy Part 6 of TheThing's Fireside Chats!

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Mike slapped at his alarm clock to stop its incessant beeping. After a few misses, he finally rolled over and turned it off. Silenced, it flashed the date and time; 6:30 AM 3/6/19. Wearing only his boxers, he stood in his two room apartment, stretching himself and cracking his neck. His neck always needed to be cracked, as he always slept on the ancient sofa, the most comfortable piece of furniture in the apartment. Lethargically, he marched over to the other room in his apartment; the bathroom. After a few minutes, he finished up in there and came back to the Hub, as he affectionately referred to it. He turned on the small tube television to the morning news as he rummaged through a nearby cabinet for a morsel of relatively edible food.

As he munched on a few stale potato chips, he watched as houses burned, people were murdered, and politicians were arrested. If only I was that lucky was the thought that passed through his head every time he sat down to see how fast the world was spinning. As he threw the bag on the ground, next the other thousand bits of trash, and began to get dressed for work, he took note of a medical story the sensual newscaster was delivering.

"Yesterday, researchers have created a viable way to grow organs. Yes, grow organs. Although this idea has been around for a decade, there has been no easy, efficient way to grow and harvest these new organs. Before, stem cells were altered to grow any body part needed, but there has always been a short supply of the necessary cells and the political backlash from conservative groups. But doctors say they have finally created a way to use less stem cells, but grow more organs. This process is still experimental, and the FDA has not reviewed the research, but experts say this is very promising." Mike stopped listening once the broadcast switched to the portly Jim who had interviewed a few experts no one knew.

Deep in depressing thoughts, he continued his pre-work routine and left his apartment.

Brooding over the news, Mike moved along the sidewalk in a stupor. He was not sure why, but he was fretting over that story. There was some off-putting feeling that dwelled inside him, like a stone caught in a whirl pool, banging against his edges but never able to find a hold. He turned into the alley that led him to the back door of the convenience store he worked at, still trying to grab the stone as it spun endless.

Suddenly, it was night as a thick black bag was shoved over his head and held tight. His legs were flung into the air as Mike struggled with the sack. Mike tried to yell, to scream, to make some kind of loud noise, but it only came out as a silent grunt. Tires shrieked as the rest of his body was hoisted into the air by the arms of Darkness, and tossed roughly into a vehicle. Trying to get up, he was quickly restrained by the Darkness, and his limbs promptly tied. The Darkness threw a few punches to subdue Mike, and it worked. Whimpering like a lost dog, he laid on the cold floor and quietly awaited his fate.

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When the transport stopped, he was swiftly and roughly snatched by the arms of the Darkness again, and carried a short way. He was dropped on an elevated mattress made of stones. Mike's bindings were cut, but quickly replaced with the cold steel of handcuffs. The gurney was rolled for hours as Mike tried to broadcast his senses through the Darkness enshrouding him. He only heard the faint grumblings of the man pushing him as he talked to a silent being; the rest of thew world was quietly watching his mysterious journey. Focusing hard, Mike was able to catch the disgusting scent of a disinfectant that was over-used. The rest of the Darkness was a secret, possibly never to be found out.

Mike's gurney went through a swinging door, moved a few more feet, then came to a stop. After a moment of stillness and wonder, the bindings were released. Springing up in his new-found freedom, he tore off the mask and slipped off the bed, landing hard on the steel floor below. But not to be caught off guard, he jumped up and put himself in a defensive stance, ready for any challenger.

As his eyes adjusted to the exceedingly bright lights, he dropped his guard from the lack of possible enemies. Still on edge, he quickly glanced around the room, hoping for a hint at where he was. He looked around and knew only that he was in an unreflective, clean steel box. The cube seemed to be illuminated directly from the walls; there was not a single slit in the steel from where the glow could come from. Mike could not even find where he had entered. Not knowing what to do, he began to pace out the size of the room. Thirty-six paces, and a smidge. Using the air as a paper and his fingers as a calculator, he figured the room was about twenty-seven feet by twenty-seven feet.

After a few minutes, he decided to re-pace the room, just to be sure of the dimensions. This time he got forty-eight. Confused and bewildered by this significantly larger size, he walked again. Thirty-nine. And again. Forty-four. And again. Thirty-two. Again and again and again Mike went around the box, each time faster than the last. He kept going until he was as unsure of his reality as the cube was unsure of its size. Tripping over himself, he lay in the middle of a wall, crying and scared.

Exhausted from his fruitless exercises and thinking this could only be a dream, he curled into a tight ball and tried to find sleep. But sleep was as elusive as reality in this place. The effulgence penetrated his eyes and emblazoned itself onto his brain, propping up his weary mind.

Time perpetually stood still, or passed exceptionally quick. Minutes could have been hours, or possibly seconds, Mike had no idea. Hunger and thirst had come and gone, but the light and the room always remained, forever changing and unchanging. There was no noise save for his breathing and his imagination. Or was his breathing his imagination? Was he dead and awaiting God's decision? Not wanting to answer that question, he began to wander the room, searching for a distraction.

Mike's head whipped around as a grinding noise was being emitted from behind. Something had broken his cube! Crouching low, he prepared himself to battle the creatures that had committed such a travesty. Three beings stepped forward from the shadows and approached Mike. One wore a suit, while the other two were covered from head to toe in white plastic. The suit nodded "He's strong enough". Forcefully, these cretins grabbed Mike and dragged him away from his cube toward the dark tunnel ahead. When he started to fight back, something was gabbed into his shoulder, and Mike soon found himself flying above the sky.

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Mike awoke in another cell. Looking around, he noticed thin bedding on top of what looked like a converted wooden table. A sink and a toilet stood in the corner like bad children who never took a bath. The walls were made from rough stone, marked with calcium and other stains. Looking closer, he scratches, as if a lion was the previous occupant. By the smell, I wouldn't doubt it He thought, looking at the toilet. In stark contrast to the steel cube, it was barely lit; a single bulb was set into the middle of the ceiling and covered by plexiglass.

As he looked at the floor, a bowl of non-descript soup stared at him, along with a glass of water. The sudden rush of pain nearly knocked him over as he dove down and drank the soup right from the bowl on the dusty, earthen floor. The soup was tasteless and thick, but Mike's stomach could not stand to be empty for another moment. It spilled down the sides of his face and onto the floor, but Mike didn't care; there was something that could be digested in his stomach. The same thing happened when he downed the water.

Wiping his mouth contently, he looked at the heavy steel door. It was inlaid a foot or two from where his walls were, and had a small barred opening roughly eye level. Peaking out, Mike saw a hallway not unlike his new room. Dim and damp, it was lit solely by the lights apparently coming from other cells. Not seeing anything of note, he sulked over to the bed and sat down.

Mike had no idea what was going on. Was this just a prank by the guys at work? Or maybe he was arrested by some secret police. But either way, he would be freed, right? They couldn't hold him forever in here, right? He laid down and, while staring at the ceiling, pondered any possible explanation for this situation.

But soon, Mike fell asleep, restlessly dreaming. Mike stood in a field, the wind causing the knee-high grain to bend. A range of mountains raised majestically out of the ground as small white clouds drifted overhead. A couple of yards away, six stoic nurses stood holding various oversized surgical equipment. Their uniforms were almost sexy, with skirts at mid-thigh and tops with the arms cut off. A rather large red cross marked their head coverings, and green, elbow high gloves protected their hands. Mildly amused, Mike hiked through the field towards the women.

But as he neared, he saw their faces. Their mouths and noses were covered by masks, but their cold, bloodshot eyes stared through Mike's soul, never wavering, never blinking. Stopping, he noticed their skin was not flesh colored, but grayed with their veins pulsing and prominent. Before, Mike thought they were just standing there, but from here, they were aggressive, prepared to slice with the scalpel, stab with the syringe, bind with the clamps. Unable to look away, he slowly backed up in fear. But the nurses matched his steps. They marched in lockstep, never breaking rank.

Suddenly, the mountains slid to the right, as if they were pulled by a train. The wheat caught fire, burned intensely, then turned to ash, all in an instant. Nothing was left but dirt and soot in this ominous wasteland. The clouds overhead slowly aggregated, calling brothers and sisters from all parts of the world to form a thick black curtain over the sky. Rumbling and glowing, they pulsed overhead, waiting for the moment to strike. Whispers were shouted from an abyss, echoing around the plain.

With a violent shaking, a fissure cracked open between Mike and the nurses, causing Mike to fall backwards. The gaping line slowly grew wider and wider, forcing the two groups further apart. At first, this was welcomed, until the hole began to draw everything into it. The fields were re-sewn and grown at a mindless speed before they were sucked towards the crack. The train that had so swiftly pulled the mountains away was driven to the chasm. The storm above gave one last crack before being drawn into the hell waiting below.

Something tugged at Mike's leg. Tripping, he fell to the ground and was dragged to the opening. As he slipped into the canyon, he turned around and grabbed hold of the edge, trying to delay his descent. Looking down, he saw dozens of men, women and children fighting to get out of the lava. Not wanting to join them, Mike clawed and the ledge, trying to pull himself up. With a groan, he lost his grip and fell screaming and tumbling into the fire below.

The nurses did not flinch for a second.

Violently waking up, Mike nearly broke his elbow against the cold stone wall that lay unmoving next to the bed. Jumping out of bed, he ran towards the steel door and began to beat his fists against it. He hoarse cries of "Let me out! Let me go! Jesus Christ, I want to live! Help!" reverberated through the endless hallway, but nothing happened. Nothing moved, not even the light being cast from the other cells. But still he continued to bang his fists against the cold steel in a vain attempt to break down the door, leaving bloody smears on its surface.

Without warning, an intense pain went through his arms that cast him back into the room. The electrical shock had been broadcast through the metal and had thrown Mike like a ragdoll. Dejected and defeated, he laid on the bed, not wanting to discover his fate.

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He woke again to the sound of steel scraping on stone. Looking up, he saw the same two men in white hazmat suits walking towards him. Springing to his feet, he tried to outmaneuver them, but the room was too small; Mike had nowhere to run. Grabbing him under the armpits and by the ankles, the men wrestle him onto another gurney and strapped him into place. Putting all of his strength into pulling off the handcuffs, he succeeded in only hurting his wrists.

One of the men grabbed onto Mike's hand and put in an IV. Trying to shake it loose, Mike did everything in his power to remove the small needle. He banged his hand against the bed, threw it about viciously, anything to free himself from whatever was about to be put in his body, but to no avail. The tube was connected, and the soft feeling of calmness drifted on top of Mike like a warm blanket in winter.

Relaxed and carefree, Mike was pushed down the hallway passing empty cell after empty cell. But as he got closer to his destination, he noticed small amounts of blood on the walls, human finger nails laying on the ground and imbedded into the stone, and rat-covered bones still decaying in the corners. But Mike only smiled and floated downstream.

As a door at the end of the hallway came into sight, Mike heard cries of terror and screams of pain emanating from each passing cell, the light casting over his face like their tears were cast upon the ground. But Mike only smiled and floated downstream.

Mike passed through the heavy, thick metal door at the end of the hall. When it closed, all sound ceased to exist, as if he had entered a church. In a stupor, Mike looked around the room. He looked up and down its clean steel walls, on the floor and on the ceiling before lazily saying "This place seems familiar."

With that, the ceiling became vaulted, rising up high above Mike. On the side of the enclosure that faced Mike, a window appeared. It sat above the ceiling's old position, hidden from the sight of any curious captive. A man in a fine suit stood at the window, surrounded by luxury. "As it should" he said in a British accent, holding a glass of white wine.

"This is the room where ya' were first taken. I know, I know, ya' loved it so much you didn't want to leave. But yer 'ere again, aren't ya mate? And you'll be in here a lot more." He nodded to the men who had wheeled him in. They removed the IV tube.

"Ya' might'av heard that scientists have found a way to make new, fully functioning body parts. But, they can only replace recently lost limbs; there's no way to reconnect dead nerves," he stopped to take a drink, "but there's a slight problem in that. Ya see, we can't be waiting round for some guy to lose a part fore we start testing these things." He began to pace back and forth in front of the window, almost taunting the helpless Mike with his unrestricted movement.

"So, we 'av to... persuade a few people nobody cares bout into.... donating their bodies for the good o' the rest of the world." By now, the drugs had worn off, and the scared feelings began to overwhelm Mike. But the suit continued. "Think about it; Jesus was nailed to the cross for other people's sins and Gandhi fasted himself to death so that India could have equality and peace. Think of ya'self as in their company."

Terrified, Mike began to struggle against his handcuffs, shaking the gurney and causing the guards to step in and prevent Mike from injuring himself. The suit tried to talk Mike down.

"Michael, Michael, calm ya'self. If ya' don't want to be compared to Jesus or Gandhi, and I don't know who wouldn't, ya' can think of it as bettering yourself. Yer getting new limbs!" He boomed over the loudspeaker. But Mike was far from listening; he looking around for something to free himself with. He shook his arms and legs, hoping that they could possibly shatter the bindings that held him. But it was no use; he was confined to that gurney.

The suit, seeing that his speech was no longer having any effect on the subject, went over a small control panel and hit some buttons. In the steel cube, a door opened, allowing six nurses through and into the room. When Mike saw them, he flashed back to the dream he had; these women were dressed exactly like the ones in the dream, their features just as demonic. Noticing this, Mike thrashed his arms, nearly punching one of the guards in the face.

But while Mike was trying to escape, the floor had opened up, and out of it came a table with nineteen body parts. There were five fingers and five toes, all different. There was also an arm, a leg, an ear, a nose, an eye, a heart, a lung, a liver and a kidney. Each sat on a petri dish with clear plastic tubes connected to each organ. A silvery liquid was pumped into each organ before flowing out again. With each pump of the plasma, a small noise could be heard, like a man trying to stop himself from vomiting.

An old rag was shoved into Mike's mouth to prevent any yells, but it only muffled the pleas for his life. A doctor appeared from the crowd and approached Mike, carrying a small, handle held saw. It was old; the blade had flecks of rust prominently on the teeth, while the rest of the device was covered in splotches of blood.

The suit called from up above down to the doctor. "Eh doc! Start off small. Take a finger."

Mike's eyes widened as the doctor stood over Mike. He tried to pull his hand away, but was restrained by the guards. The doctor bent over, a gleeful look in his eyes. He said "Don't worry; I've done this dozens of times. You'll feel every bit of it."

The saw revved up and slowly came down on Mike's forefinger.

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TABLE OF CONTENTS

This is just a table of contents page. It'll mainly house my writings, but I'll also provide a few links to various parts of the interwebs
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Stories

1. Untitled Fake Forum Story (NSFW)

This is the first request writing I did. I wanted to try to get back into the swing of writing, and this was my practice. It tells the story of me and how my best friend has a really hot sister. Definitely not my best, but its mine.

2.Bong Brian Makes a Burrito (or tries to)

Another request writing, this one is a tad better, although not perfect or at the level of my other stories. But don't skip this; it's a quick read. This documents Brian, a pot smoker, on his quest to make a burrito. Hilarity ensues, with some foul language.

3. The Sword (NSFW)

Another one of those fake forum post stories. Like the one above, this was a request. This follows the the adventures of Steve, an unpopular kid at school who finds a magical sword on his way to his first day of school. But instead, he goes on a killing rampage. Great middle part, although the entire story is incredibly NSFW.

4. The Sword of Noatlag (NSFW)

The sequel to the story above, this was the longest story I have ever published, if you can call it that. Ignore the title posted on the blog; mine is much better (although there was a reason for it). Without giving too much away, Steve finds out more about the sword he discovered, and in that process he finds that there is another sword out there; the Sword of Noatlag. In order to prevent the world from exploding, Steve must kill the wielder of the other sword. Twice the fun of the first.

5. The Ballad of a Ghost - Chapter 1

The first chapter of my shining jewel, my crown achievement to this point. It follows Mike, who's an emo kid, his preppy girlfriend Jen, and his average friend Steve. Mike, tired of being emo, tries to change himself into a normal, average guy. Drama ensues, and segues into Chapter 2.

NOW WITH A NEW TITLE, SO IT DOESN'T LOOK LIKE I'M BLATANTLY RIPPING OFF THE CD THIS IS BASED OFF OF.

6. The Ballad of a Ghost - Chapter 2

The second chapter to the above first statement. Mike, now (SPOILER ALERT) angry about his girlfriend cheating on him, he decides to prepare for the good parts of the story; the part where he kills himself. If you finish this chapter, and didn't read the very bottom, you should being dieing to read Chapter 3, SO GO DO IT.

The Ballad of a Ghost - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 to the renamed series, Mike (SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS) drives into the lake where he and Jen first met. Now Mike, and you, will know what it's like to be dead. Excuse me, what it's like to be dead from how I see it.

7. Beauty and Frankenstein's Monster

A long, long piece that I wrote based on another Armor for Sleep song, Hold the Door. This is what I imagined the music video should look like, but this is more of a short film than a music video. But a man can dream, right? Anyway, this hasn't gotten too much attention, probably because of it's length and probably because I don't post too much on the general forums.

8. You

This is a real quicky; something unusual about my writing. This is a poem, thought of after reading part of a bio on Ray Bradbury. I feel its alright, but others seem to like it. Take the 30 seconds and tell me how you feel about it.

9. Are You Ready?

A very short story (by my standards, anyway) about a nuclear scientist in the late 1940's-early 1950's. It has a very science-fictiony feel, and is kind of cheesey. It averaged about a 7/10 during June 2009's writing contest, and could have been higher if the beginning didn't take a cock to the nose. But watch out for the super-awesome ending!

10. Pussy Duty (NSFW)

This is the first installment of TheThing's Moonlight Stories, and let me tell you; it's a whopper. This forgoes any real plot and focuses on all on the sex. It was really meant for www.stories.xnxx.com, but Newgrounds can surprise a man. I caution you; read the author's note prior to reading the story; there are some taboo subjects involved and I'm not looking for a lawsuit/angry rant.
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Not-a-Story Stories:
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1. Ball Surgery

Prior to blogs, you had a to post stories in the forums, whether or not they were real, making it quite confusing on telling which was which. Clearly, being in the "Blog Story" section, I hope you can tell. It describes a painful night where I get testicular torsion and need surgery on meh bawls.

2. My (NSFW) Boy Scout Camp Experience

Read the first line of the post before you get any gay ideas. Much like the Ball Surgery thread, this is a work of semi-fiction; I was there, and the average Joe stuff happened, but the batshit insane part is a "what if...?". I was trying to cash in on the success of the above thread, but it didn't pan out. It's a good read if you need to rub one off; it's about me, the hottest female counselor in the camp, and a shower. Need I say more?

3. Hometown Hero

This is a similar story as from above; semi-fiction, cash-in on the BS thread, but it was also an attempt to create a Hometown Hero fad (I went in with another guy and tried to recruit others, but it didn't work). It talks about how I saved a guy who dove in at the 3 ft section of the pool I work at.

4. The Life of Stan

A recently remembered (and toughly dug up) relic from early 2007. Anything before this is too embarrassing to bring up. This recounts the life of my dad Stan. Or some of it. It's got poor grammar, spelling, and the whole lot, but the few stories I post are worth checking out. The ones I posted were pretty funny, and a bio with his life is at the top. Not sure how accurate the bio is, since things have changed since I was first told all of this stuff, seeing as I was very young at the time and blinders went up.

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Clubs/Crews
These are the links to Clubs and Crews I belong to.

1. Elite Guard Barracks

2. Newgrounds Department of Defense

3. PS3 Online Lounge

4. Writer's Club

5. Doctor Who Crew
*Note* Although I don't go there anymore (I'm about 4 months behind on anything they post there, fucking America), I still created it, and it's my baby. If you love it, let it go.

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Although I've written dirty stories in previous years, none of it was actually posted by me in my own blog. So this is officially the first TheThing's Fireside Chats Present: TheThing's Moonlight Stories. May just shorten that to TheThing's Moonlight Stories, but that could be decided later on. Anyway, This was a piece intended for a slightly different audience (www.stories.xnxx.com), although Newgrounds surprises me every day. Please, browse xnxx.com and read the author's note before you flip out at me. This was intended for the xnxx.com audience, which has different tastes than you. For those slightly more perverted, enjoy.

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Author's note: I do not promote, nor condone, any sexual act or acts done to anyone underage, consensual or otherwise. Also, always use protection during any sexual intercourse.

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"So, here's the key, here's the instructions I've typed up for you, and over there is the cat food. Any questions?"

Mike grabbed the key and instructions, took note of where the food was placed, and said "You'll be back next Saturday, right?"

Steve responded with "Yep. I'll pay you when we get back, okay?"

"Sure, no problem." Just as Mike spoke, Steve's daughters came bouncing down the stairs in all their heavenly glory. They were 12 and 13, but still a sensual sight to behold.

Kelly, the older of the pair, was incredibly athletic and her body reflected that. She had a smooth hourglass shape to her and fine, toned legs. The form-fitting tee-shirt and short shorts showed each of those features off. And even though she was only 13, Kelly had graduated to a B-cup over the last few months, and from the neighborhood pool parties, Mike could see that her breasts were full and firm. Her brunette mane streamed behind her beautifully.

The other, Stephanie, was just as beautiful. She too was very fit from running track and playing soccer, but she still had round, firm, plump ass, especially for a girl her age. Her long, smooth legs only added to the allure of her lower half. Because of her age, she barely had any chest to speak of, but the eye was always drawn to her lovely face framed by her blond hair.

Mike's mind began to wander as Steve turned around to talk to his girls. He thought about the girls at night, getting ready for bed, taking a shower, maybe together. If only he could know, life for him would be complete. Mike felt guilty for thinking such thoughts, as he was a full 10 years older than Kelly. But things like that can not be helped, just suppressed.

Their voices brought him back to life. "Hey Mike" they said as they ran past him.

"What's going on, girls?" Mike responded, trying to not act like he was distracted.

"Just going over Emily's house. See ya!" And they sprinted out of the front door.

Mike turned back to Steve, who said "Damn, they grow up so fast. One day they're in diapers, the next, they're looking at boys."

Mike, in attempt to comfort his neighbor, told him "Don't worry; they're good girls. They won't get into any trouble."

"Yeah, that's what you hope. Well, I've got to finish packing and getting everything ready."

Mike took the cue and said "Hope you have a good time on vacation. Bye." Mike turned towards the door and left.

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The week passed with nothing major going on. Mike went over every morning and fed the cats who were eager to gobble up whatever food Mike put in front of them. He brought in the mail and newspapers and put the trash and recycling at the curb on the specified days. And of course, he explored the house, especially Kelly and Stephanie's rooms.

He first went into Stephanie's room. It was painted a bright orange color, possibly to match her easy going but fiery personality. Carefully searching the room, he looked for a dirty clothes hamper. He found the laundry in a small purple box at the foot of her bed. Opening it up, he ruffled through it for a pair of dirty underwear. To his pleasant surprise, he found a thong among the shirts and shorts.

He brought the sacred cloth up to his nose and inhaled deeply, breathing in the sweet aroma of this young girl. Mike took another breath, and his penis became semi-erect, and he started to become lost in the pleasure of Stephanie's pussy. Knowing that he can always come back, he moved on to Kelly's room.

Her room also reflected her personality. The walls were a deep, thoughtful blue with little pictures and musings written about. Some of them were well done, while others seemed like they were drawn by a drunken man or thought of by a 2 year old.

Holding off on the panty raid, he looked for pictures of Kelly in a bathing suit, hopefully with friends dressed similarly. When no hard copies were found, he moved to the computer. With a few keystrokes, he was in.

Mike found some good pictures of bikinis, but was utterly surprised by the contents of a folder left as "New Folder". Opening up a few files, he became entranced by the pictures of Kelly in a g-string, covering her exposed breasts with her hands. He continued through the folder, finding more and more provocative pictures, culminating in a shot where the camera is between Kelly's spread legs, looking up at her boobs and face. It was, simply put, perfection. Saving the files to his flash drive, he was glad that there was no nudity; he was not about to go to jail.

Checking the printer, he printed out the last picture and went back to Stephanie's room. Picking up the underwear, he put it over his head so that the crotch was over his nose and began to masturbate to the hottest photo he had ever seen.

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Mike went back Saturday afternoon to return the key and receive his payment. Steve answered the door, and let Mike in. "So, how was everything?" Steve asked.

"Everything was fine. The only thing I had a problem with was getting those stupid lids open." Mike let out a little chuckle at his light joke, as did Steve. "So, here's your key." Mike handed over the key.

Taking the key, Steve responded with "Thank you. Now, your payment is upstairs in the my bedroom."

Thoroughly confused, Mike looked at Steve with a puzzled look. "What?" was all that could formulate in his mind and translated into words.

Sighing, Steve said "Alright, let me blunt. Your payment is fucking my daughters. They're upstairs in the master bedroom naked waiting for you." Mike couldn't believe his ears. He was offered the ability to fuck the 2 girls of his most perverted fantasies. But he was still wary; that's not something that's offered by any parent.

"Woah woah woah. Ho-hold on. Just wait. Is this some kind of test? Is Chris Mathews upstairs waiting for me with a Dateline camera crew?"

"No, no, this real. I want you to have sex with Kelly and Stephanie. I think it's about time that they feel the touch of a man," Steve said, "But I don't want any boys to do it. They're stupid and have no idea what they're doing. I don't want them to be turned off by sex because someone didn't do it right." Steve looked earnestly at Mike, trying to show that he really meant it.

"And you want me to fuck them?" Mike was incredulous at this claim. He never thought that any father would want to have their daughter lose their virginity.

"Exactly. You see, I've known too many guys who've cheated on their girlfriends or girls that have been cheated on because the girl didn't put out. Soon, my girls will be reaching the age where guys expect sex, and will move on to greener pastures, so to speak. I don't want Kelly and Stephanie to have their hearts broken. Of course, I don't want them to turn into sluts; I can teach them when and when not to have sex, but that will come with time. Right now, I want them to experience sex and not to be afraid of it." Mike was deeply moved by the speech, and also knew too many girls that had their hearts broken because they wouldn't have sex and their boyfriends moved on.

Nodding his head, Mike looked at Steve. "That was a great speech, it really was. But, I still don't know what to make of this. I mean, are you just pulling my leg? I need some kind of vote of confidence before I do what you want me to."

"Alright, I see where you're coming from," Steve said in agreement. He turned his head in the general direction of the bedroom and yelled "Girls! Girls, could you please come down here! Come as you are!"

Shyly, the 2 naked girls stepped out of the room and began to walk down the steps. Mike couldn't help but notice how much their hips swung. When they reached the ground floor and stood next to their dad, Mike checked them out with his mouth agape, and probably a little drool coming out the side.

Kelly was red with nerves, while Stephanie let out a quite "Hi". Mike looked at them in amazement, looking at them like he had just discovered the naked female body. Their pussies were shaven, and some makeup was daintily applied to their faces. A small amount of glitter covered their bodies, glistening on their tanned bodies in the light of the foyer.

Steve looked over at his eldest and with a nod towards Mike, said her name. With her hands clasped together, she made her way to Mike. His heart was beating out of his chest, as he was sure Kelly's was also. She slowly got to her knees and unzipped his pants and slid both his pants and boxers down around his ankles. Mike's 7 and a half inch cock throbbed as it threatened to poke out Kelly's eye.

Kelly gulped, then slowly put her lips around the head of Mike's penis. Very slowly, she began to bob her head up and down on his penis going only as far as her gag reflex would let her. The pleasure was immense; her small mouth was perfect for sucking on his cock.

While Mike was in the throws of ecstasy, Steve nodded to Stephanie, who confidently kneeled down next to her sister and took Mike's balls in her mouth. This extra stimulation made Mike go crazy. He titled his head back and shut his eyes tight, trying to make this fantasy last as long as possible. When he did open his eyes, he saw that Kelly was looking up at him as she moved back and forth, sliding along his cock.

When Steve saw the last bit of doubt leave Mike, he said "Do you believe me now?"

Barely able to control his muscles, let alone his thoughts, all he could moan out was "Aaaahhh, yes, ooooohhh."

"Good. I'll let them finish and then you guys can go upstairs. If you need anything, I'll be watching TV." With that, Steve left the foyer, strolling over the TV as Mike received the best blow job anyone had ever gotten.

Stephanie took her turn on Mike's dick, licking the length of it every once in a while before going back to sucking on it. Kelly felt right at home licking and massaging Mike's balls. Stephanie, who was much more confident than her sister, began to move much faster and deeper. Every muscle in Mike's body contracted as his pleasure increased. He grabbed Stephanie's hair and held it back into a ponytail and he began to rock his hips with her motions.

"Oh God, fuck, I'm gonna cum!" He said, but Stephanie kept going at the same speed until the last moment, when she pulled her mouth off and started to stroke Mike's penis with her hand. Kelly also moved her mouth off his balls and prepared it to receive Mike's load. Mike let out a deep, primal yell as he blew his load over his 2 favorite girls. Stephanie kept stroking until Mike said "hold on, Kelly, come over here."

Kelly obeyed and Mike told her to suck his dick dry. She obliged, milking every last drop of cum from his dick and cleaning off the rest. Mike's knees were weak as he came the hardest he had ever cum. As he stood their wobbling, he said "girls, can you lick the cum off each other's faces?"

The sisters looked at each other and giggled before Kelly said "sure". Then they were off, licking Mike's white goo from their faces, making Mike's wilting cock slowly become hard again.

When the girls finished, they got up and grabbed Mike's hands. "Come on, let's go upstairs." They said as they trotted up the steps. Mike followed behind, thanking every God, god, goddess, and Allah there was.

Mike had noticed that all trepidation had vanished from the young girls, and it even seemed like they enjoyed it. As they reached the top stairs, he noticed a small amount of liquid dripping down Stephanie's legs.

The threesome went into the dimly lit master bedroom, avoiding the randomly placed lavender candles. Rose petals were laid out on the bed and some were strewn about the floor. Kelly and Stephanie let go of Mike and slowly wandered to opposite sides of the bed.

Once they had positioned themselves on the bed, Kelly nervously asked "Well? Which one of us is going first?" Mike was slightly taken aback by the question.

"Wait, shouldn't one of you decide? This is your night, not mine." He spoke kindly to them, almost romantically. He was right; as much of his dream this was, it was not his virginity being lost.

After a quick conference, Kelly looked up at Mike, but could not find the words. Understandingly, Mike walked over to Kelly and laid on top of her. Taking his penis in his hand, he guided it into Kelly's very wet vagina.

As the head of his penis entered, Kelly winced in pain. Mike did not move any more, allowing Kelly to get used to having something of that size inside of her. Slowly, he began to push more and more, eventually pressing up against her hymen. He applied a little more pressure before Kelly's innocence was lost forever.

She gasped as her hymen ripped, and Mike did not move, allowing the pain to subside. Stephanie sat on the bed, transfixed at what was happening to her sister and what will be happening to her.

After a short while, Mike pushed the rest of his cock in. He then began to slowly slide it in and out of Kelly's vagina. Kelly's vagina clamped down tight on Mike's penis, squeezing the life out of it. Although this was amazing for Mike, he noticed that Kelly was not fully enjoying the experience, he called Stephanie over to rub her clit. Expecting her to not be exactly sure where it was, he pointed to the area that needed to be rubbed.

"Oh, that's what it's called. I love playing with that spot on myself." Stephanie said as she excitedly began to caress her older sister's clit. Mike, a bit shocked, tried not to show it as he continued his thrusts.

With the addition of Stephanie, Kelly's "ahs" of pain slowly converted to "ahs" of pleasure. Soon, her hips began to buck slightly against Mike's dick. Mike continued to slide in and out of Kelly, increasing his speed. Kelly reached up and fondled her breasts, alternating squeezing them and pushing them towards her head.

Mike could not last much longer; between Kelly's incredibly tight vagina and Stephanie rubbing both Kelly's and her own, Mike did everything he could to not cum. But when Kelly climaxed, her vagina clamped down on Mike's cock, and her small body looked too beautiful as her back arched. Mike just could not take it any more "I'm going to cum!" He cried out.

Mike ripped his penis from Kelly's pussy. But just as he was about to stroke himself, Stephanie stopped rubbing Kelly and started on Mike. His head tilted back as an orgasm more powerful than the one downstairs sprayed out over Kelly's panting body. It covered her stomach and tits, beautifully glistening the way only cum on a hot 13 year old's body can.

Mike collapsed to his side, almost completely spent. If Stephanie was more of the same, he was going to die tonight. At least I'll die a happy man, he thought.

Stephanie moved over to Mike, and, kneeling over him, gave him a quick kiss that brought him back to reality, or whatever this scene could be called. "Don't I get a turn?" Stephanie whimpered so sweetly. "Of course. You're too damn cute not to have a turn." Mike said as he slowly got up.

In an attempt to give himself a break, Stephanie laid down and Mike began to eat her pussy. He began to give small kisses between her legs and her lips, teasing her. Stephanie's hands gripped the bed sheets as Mike moved in to make circles on her vagina. Carefully tracing the inside with his tongue, he snuck one finger in there and began to move it around.

Stephanie was in ecstasy, and when Mike put his mouth over her entire pussy and hummed, Stephanie had a very forceful orgasm. It was so violent that Mike was nearly kicked as she lost all control over her body. Thoroughly wet and Kelly ready to help out, Mike moved up and lined up his head with her hole.

He did the same thing as with Kelly, but Stephanie already had her endorphins flowing and it did not hurt as much as it did with Kelly. Once Mike popped Stephanie's cherry, he moved his hips, building up speed as Kelly fumbled with Stephanie's clitoris.

Just as tight as her sister's, Mike was losing his mind over the pleasure and not cumming. He kept thrusting and eventually pounding Stephanie as she screamed "Oh God damn! Oh yes! Ah!". She thrashed about, clawing Mike's back, pulling at the bed sheets, kicking her legs straight into the air. Stephanie had lost all control; she was now just a medium for her pleasure.

Stephanie somehow was able to reach a whole new level of pleasure as she climaxed loudly, which nearly made it impossible for Mike to keep going. Finally, he pulled out and let Kelly suck him off until he was pulled out of her mouth in order to spray Stephanie, who welcomed it with an open mouth.

Mike fell over again, thinking "If I was 20 years older, I'd have died of a heart attack by now. But I'd die so fucking happy." Kelly shuffled over to him and politely asked "Hey, uh, do you mind if I try something?"

Mike, struggling to get his heart rate back within its limits, he weakly responded "yeah, sure, whatever you want. ....Your night..." Kelly stood up and straddled Mike. Taking his cock in her hand, she slowly lowered herself onto it, letting its length fill her up. She gasped as she let herself fall all the way onto it.

Mike, interested at this new position, picked his head up to watch that cute frame allow the 7 and a half inches to slide in and out of her pussy at her speed. For a minute or 2 he watched her petite frame bounce up and down, her modest tits shaking every time she landed.

Eventually Mike said "Here, turn around and lean forward." Kelly obeyed, and Mike, holding her by her hips, helped her with the up and down motion. Soon they got a fast rhythm going, Mike slightly bucking his hips to meet her's.

Suddenly, he let go of Kelly's hips and pulled her back on top of him, her back resting on his chest. Squeezing her beautiful breasts, he pumped his rod into her pussy. Stephanie, idle until now, positioned herself between his legs and lick Kelly and Mike and he drove his dick into Kelly.

As Stephanie's tongue made contact, Kelly let out a loud moan and tilted her head back. Mike, less sensitive from the other 3 times, keep going strong. Then out of nowhere, Kelly let out a primal yell and pushed down the bed with her legs, forcing her hips into the air. Mike's dick fell out, and Stephanie jerked backwards in surprise. Kelly was now playing with herself and she squirted into her sister's face.

When she was done, Kelly collapsed back down on Mike, every muscle tensed or twitching from the orgasm. Mike was in complete shock; the only time he had seen something like this was in movies, but never in real life.

Stephanie stared at her sister. "Is... is she okay?" she asked, her voice full of fear and wonder.

"Yeah,...um, yeah, she's great. Um, that was a wet female orgasm. I've,...I've never seen one in real life before." Mike responded, a hint of wonder still evident in his voice. Kelly laid there panting, unable to move any part of her body.

Stephanie kept her eyes on her sister. "I want one of those!" She said excitedly, refocusing her attention on Mike.

"Um, I guess you can get one. I don't know. Some girls are more prone to than others. We can always try." Mike moved Kelly out of the way as he directed Stephanie to get into another position.

"Perfect. Now just spread your legs. Good." As Stephanie waited on all fours, Mike came up behind her and slowly guided his penis in. He started to slowly move his hips while his right hand snuck around and began to play with her clit. His other hand fondled the young girl's breast.

He continued like that for a few minutes, glad that his stamina had finally improved to that of an amateur porn star. Still playing with her clit, he let go of her breast and snatched a handful of golden locks and tugged as he continued to drill her, slapping noises emanating from their hips and fluids spread. Both were letting out rough grunts and moans as Mike tried to somehow get this preteen to cum hard.

Mike couldn't help but notice how hot this scene was: a handful of blonde hair, a hot girl screaming, his pelvis hitting against that perfect ass. When he knew Stephanie was close to climaxing, he let go of the hair and pressed his thumb against her anus. At this point, Stephanie lost all ability to hold herself up and let her arms splay out and her face rest on the bed, letting out staccato "Oh"s and "Ah"s.

Mike, just about ready himself, pushed the thumb a bit further in, and that was it. Stephanie's hands gained some control back as they ripped at the bed sheet. As she let out an impressive yell, Mike felt pressure in front of his dick. Pulling out, he was hit with a cascade of liquid love. Recalling a few porn movies, he ran his hand back and forth over her clit, causing the cum to come out like a sprinkler. By no means was it like Kelly's shaking orgasm, but it was amazing for a girl her size and age.

The 2 sisters laid there, their cum-and-sweat covered skin shimmering in the soft candlelight. Inspired by the beautiful scene, he grabbed his dick and finished himself, adding to the stirring scene.

Barely able to stand, Mike got out of the bed and put his clothes back on. Turning to the lifeless girls he said "I hope tonight was everything you hoped for, and more. Goodnight Kelly, goodnight Stephanie." As he turned to leave, Kelly, still recovering, spoke.

"Mike." She said shakily, almost unsure of her voice. Mike turned around. "You know where we live..." leaving the rest to his imagination.

Chuckling and smiling, he nodded, and slowly turned back around and left.

When he got back to the front door, he paused. Looking back at the bedroom, he smiled contently, and reflected for a moment of the night. Nearly grinning ear to ear, he left.

He crossed the street to get back to his house. While in the middle of the street, a drunk driver in a sedan moving at 60 mph smacked into Mike.

Updated: 09/14/09 10:10 PM 4 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!

As you might be able to tell from my profile picture, my nose is fucked up. Not really sure how that happened; I don't remember breaking it or anything on my face. One doctor said I have a deviated septum, while another doctor said I probably broke my nose or the growth plate either A) when I was really really little or B) when I was older, but I never realized it.

Well, anyway, a few weeks ago I saw doctor #2, and he said that he could fix my nose with no cost to me! The other day, he sent some photoshopped pictures of me to show me what my nose will look like. Since I'm so fucking pumped about this, I felt like sharing it with NG.

Behold, the before and the future...

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Coming after months of anticipation, TheThing's Fireside Chats: Part 5 is here! This is posted because I'm a big fat whore, and if I can post my work somewhere, I will. Also, this will just be a placeholder for a flurry of 2 new stories coming out with in the next week or 2, pending edits and actually typing them up. One's "maid" just for you 13-year-old internet crowd, and the other is a boring, psychological thing like what you're about to read.

Please, enjoy my entry in June 2009's Monthly Writing Contest. Oh, and the beginning sucks, so don't bitch to me about it. I'll get to it eventually.

REMEMBER TO COMMENT SO I CAN SEE HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE READING IT. EVEN IF YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY, JUST SAY "You told me to comment"

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"Are you ready?"

David Hahn looked at his assistant with stone eyes. He was never good at lying, especially about where he was or where he was going. Thinking about that, he realized that it was his poor lying skills that brought him to his current position. But now he needed to focus on getting off the boat and onto that island.

"Fuchs, I've got to be ready. I'm the man who's heading this entire test. You know the bomb is going off tomorrow and only tomorrow. The schedule can't be moved up or down."

Fuchs nodded his head in disappointment, knowing that he would have to wait to view the 13th US nuclear test.

Hahn checked his watch and turned away from the lab assistant in an attempt to lie. "I'm going to bed. Could you just run that last test in the lab for me?"

Fuchs agreed, downtrodden by the fact that he had to vomit for another twelve hours before he could see the terribly awesome explosion.

David suddenly turned around and solemnly said "And whatever happens, the show much go on."

The lab assistant stood and stared at Hahn before slowly repeating "the show must go on."

Hahn walked away without any intentions to fall asleep, at least for now. Quietly, he walked to the edge of the small boat, which bobbed in the small waves of the Pacific Ocean. He looked about himself, trying to avoid the suspicions of the guards. With one last look, he clumsily flopped into the life boat clinging to the edge. David stayed low for a few minutes before slowly lowering himself into the cold, dark waters of the night.

David pushed himself way from the boat, rocking the boat sideways as it struggled to begin its final journey.

He paddled all night, fighting the overwhelming resistance of the water, trying to pull him back towards the boat. The water would not allow him to abandon the progress he has made in the nuclear sciences. The water would not allow him to reverse his once held belief that his research was good. The water would not allow him to destroy himself.

Hahn reached the island at daybreak. Exhausted, his un-athletic frame dragged itself onto the beach. He shoved the rowboat into the open water, trapping himself on the doomed island. David wearily dragged himself into the foliage and disappeared underneath the canopy of brush to sleep.

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David Hahn woke up hours later, the sun shining bright through the green leaves and pastel colors of the forest. He stood up, stretched, and set off.

He wandered around in amazement, marveling at the lush flora engulfing him. He walked in udder silence, partially afraid to wake the dormant island, partially in sincere reverence for the magical depths it contained.

He stumbled his way along, delving deeper and deeper into the island, finding more and more secrets it has held for innumerable centuries. He soon began to make stories for the plants, personifying them into friends to take along on his walk. That tree, that one over there, it was lonely; nothing of its kind is near, nor will it ever be. Those plants, the ones huddled together beneath the shade of the pua keni keni, they're conducting a secret meeting to overthrow the biggest plant, their King.

On and on Hahn went, walking in circles and thinking of new storylines to add to his mythology until he had a Shakespearean drama. He went on for hours, epic battles and undiscovered love triangles playing in the theater of his mind. Soon, however, a holocaust was brought to the island. Rocks and boulders were tossed from trebuchets and vine whips were cracked. The doves fled quickly, their cries falling on a people without ears. Plants and trees on both sides were knocked over, crushed, trampled, all in the name of the good.

David ran away, attempting to flee the destruction he had created, but it was never far behind, clawing at his heels. Suddenly he stopped as the soldiers fought on, edging closer to him as the generals looked for more to demolish, more to kill, more to step on.

David Hahn was frozen in front of a bush bathed in blood. Its leaves, its stems, its roots were drenched in a deep crimson overflowing on to the surrounding plants. It was the color of greed, of envy, of hate, of joy, of sorrow, of love, of passion. It smelled of lust and death, of power, of doom, of creativity and effigy. Its voluminous scarlet leaves were brushed with all the great fires of all the history of all the world. Its thin, fragile stem was constantly growing, creating a tangled spider web of past failures, successes and draws. This bush of fire and blood had become so old, it had fallen on its primal instincts, continuously reaching out and raping all that was around.

Although only a slight breeze had winded its way through the jungle, the bush threatened to become uprooted, straining to stay connected to the island, to stay in control of the chaos encircling Hahn.

The stranger dropped to his knees in awe and shame of this plant.

"Oh Humanity!" he cried to the bush, "Oh Mankind! What have you done?! What have you become!?"

His voice softened to a whisper as the battle behind raged on, the cracks of rifles and the cries of the infantry bombarding the island

"What have you done to me?" he pleaded faintly.

He tilted his head back, looking for Shiva, Anubis, Allah, Yemen, God. Yet all he saw was the tall metal tower, standing strong against the machine guns and artillery in the trenches far below. Suspended from that tower sat the human scientist's God of Death. It hung there, never swaying, never shaking, never moving. The black metal shell reflected the world in its eyes.

David held his gaze to the god for a long time, even as shouts of German, Japanese, English and Russian resounded against his ear drums. Slowly he brought his eyes back to the plant. A siren sounded, long and dreadful, warning of the impeding doom David was about to face. He looked at Humanity earnestly, asking it one final question:

"Are you ready?"

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So, I had an epiphany the other night while reading a literary criticism of Ray Bradbury (although this isn't about him), and was able to write what I feel is a decent poem. I've never been good at poetry, so hopefully this is well received.

"You"

When I look at you
Your face
Your body
Your Beauty
My heart is torn out by your hurricane.
When I think of you
My mind wanders lush forests
In search of Greek goddesses.
And,
For a moment
I'm the universe.
I'm the pulsing and throbbing.
I'm the flowing
The stuttering, the stopping.
I'm the spinning, the revolving, the rotating;
The ebbing, the crashing
The flying, the flapping
I'm the birthing, the walking, the running,
The tripping, the stumbling;
The thinking, the fantastical imagining, the processing.
I'm the blowing, the gushing,
The sparking, the rolling, the moving.
I'm the floating, the rising,
The falling, the sinking.
And then
You're gone
And then
I'm me.
I'm him.
I'm them.
I'm nothing.
I'm your nothing.

Like I said, I'm not that good at poetry, so any criticism with anything would be much appreciated.

Updated: 07/12/09 1:10 AM 1 comment | Log in to comment! | Share this!

With this fourth installment of TheThing's Fireside Chats, I bring to you a different story. Once again based something from Armor for Sleep, this comes from the song Hold The Door. That's the official music video, but this is what I thought would make a better video. I know it's a bit lengthy, but it's solid throughout. Enjoy the read! Oh, just point out any grammar/spelling issues anyway you feel.

REMEMBER TO COMMENT SO I CAN SEE HOW MANY PEOPLE ARE READING IT. EVEN IF YOU HAVE NOTHING TO SAY, JUST SAY "You told me to comment"

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Mike emerged stumbling onto the road from the woods, covered in mud, dirt, and soot. His camouflage jacket had rips and tears, while the tight blue thermal shirt underneath was drenched in sweat and blood. His jeans had a nearly horizontal rip at the middle of his right thigh and the slight gash showed through.

Mike slowly let himself down to the cool, damp pavement of the very early morning. Mike blinked a few times, shook his head and rubbed his eyes before thinking of a plan. He reached for the hood on his jacket and pulled that up, covering the dried leaves and caked mud of his hair. Slowly, he zipped up his jacket and retied his shoes. He looked at the gash on his thigh; nothing that can't wait until he got home. Carefully, he rolled over and used his thin arms to pick himself up.

Mike stood there, waiting. He looked at his watch, who's blinding blue numbers yelled a 2:45 AM at him before being quieted by Mike's sleeve. He looked at his moon. On a night like this one, the moon was able to shine brightly on all who could see it. Even though a few dark clouds floated in the sky, the moon broke through them like a bull, fighting to spread it's light on the people so far below it. But just as Mike was getting entranced by the moon, he saw another light coming around the bend in the road. Show time.

Mike got into the middle of the road and began raising his hand, the international gesture to stop. As the car came around the bend, the woman driving it saw Mike and began to pull over. Mike limped over to the tan Camry as she got out. The woman was in her mid 20's, and wore the proper fashion of her age; Ugg boots, a pair of Holster sweat pants with the waist band rolled over itself once or twice, a tight red Holster shirt, and a light jacket which was dark green in color.

" Are you alright?" the woman asked, getting close to Mike and reaching to support him in his struggle.

"Yeah, I'm fine. Don't worry about it." Mike responded, straightening his posture and cracking his neck. "Hey, are you going into town? I got lost hiking out there -" Mike jerked his head to the surrounding forest "- and need to let my family know I'm okay."

"Yeah, I'm headed there. Don't you think you should go to the doctor or something?"

"No, I'll be fine. Just a couple of scratches. Nothing a hot shower and a cold beer won't fix." Mike said with a smile and a small laugh. The woman reciprocated the smile.

"Aren't you scared to be out here? Especially with that nut going around and lighting campers on fire and everything." The woman inquired as she led Mike to her car.

"Nah, with the cops searching these words and no one around here camping, that crazy is long gone." Mike said playfully but reassuringly. "And I figure, if I die, I might as well be famous when it happens."

The woman looked through the window of the car. "Sorry about the mess; I just came back from my sister's college. I was staying there for a few days, and... you know how college is; have some fun, make a mess, and never clean it up." She gave a nervous laugh, and opened the back door for Mike.

"Yeah, I know what it's like to make a mess while having fun and never wanting to clean it up." Mike said with a shallow laugh. He brushed some dirt off of his arm.

The woman began a vain attempt to clear up some room for Mike. Between the empty cans, the full cans, the dirty clothes, and the duffel bags full of semi-clean clothes, there was no way for her to find a place for Mike in her car. "I'm not sure if I've got enough room back there for you."

"There's plenty of space back there." Mike said, gently pushing the woman out of the way. "Here, let me just move all your things around. I'm good at packing a lot into a little. I should be able to create a space for me." Mike then proceeded to take things out, put them make in, stack bags, fold clothes, push and fight for a space on the passenger side.

"There!" Mike said with a breath of relief when he finished the impossible task. Mike wiped his hands clean and looked back at the impressed woman with a slight, sly smile. "Should be much easier to unpack now."

"Thanks," said the woman as she got back into the driver's seat. Mike's sly smile never left his face as he started towards the car. He walked carefully, stepping through piles of leaves and over fallen branches and trees. He was in the middle of the woods, crouched slightly as he slunk through the forest. He checked his watch; 1:32 AM. The lattice-work pattern on the handle of the 6 inch lock-back blade dug into his hands and fingers as he gripped it tightly. Soon, he was at the clearing. Clouds darkened the sky, but the moonlight still illuminated the area, passing through the branches of the huge trees. Mike looked at the campsite that was set up. A red and grey Coleman dome tent was set up, big enough for four or five people to sleep comfortably. In front was a fire pit with the embers of last night's fire still glowing and releasing wisps of smoke. Beyond was a picnic table. The plates and silverware from last night's meal glinted in the slight moon.

Casually and quietly, Mike began the trek across the vast clearing, knife still ready in his had. His breathing quickened, and his heart was beating out of his chest. The adrenaline was pumping throughout his body. Mike felt alive, so alive! He was half way to the tent when it began to shake. Mike froze, and began to slowly crouch as the zipper moved violently around, opening the door of the tent. A man stepped out and jogged over to the edge of the clearing, to the right of Mike. Mike peered through the darkness at the man, to see what he was doing. Hurriedly, the man opened his fly and the splatter of urine resounded through the night. Mike got up and continued his journey.

"Oh my God, are you alright? What happened?" Mike was back on the damp road, lying on his back. A cold sweat peppered his face and forehead. Mike wiped his tried to wipe it off; whether he meant to wipe off the flash back or the perspiration, he wasn't completely sure. "Yeah....yeah, I'm fine. I guess... I think I'm just a little dehydrated. Yeah, I'm dehydrated." Mike responded, sitting up.

"Here, I got a bottle of water in the car. I'll be back, just wait right here," the woman said, standing up from her kneeling position and moving towards the car. Mike sat for a moment longer, before finally standing up and leaning heavily on the trunk of the car. What the hell was that? Mike questioned. But he couldn't that question just yet, as the woman came back to him with the water.

Mike took a sip "Thanks." He said wiping his mouth with his sleeve

"Where you hallucinating?" the woman inquired. She sounded genuinely concerned about his welfare.

"Wha...ye...yeah, how could you tell?"

"You were mumbling something. I couldn't really make it out; you stopped before I could get close enough to hear." This news shocked and worried Mike even more than passing out and seeing things; if he was talking about what he saw, it could have led to some serious allegations.

"Well... uh, I don't know. I just need to get back home." Mike said, hiding his worry in a slightly embarrassed and tired tone. He carefully put his weight back on his feet and, with the aid of the woman, sat in the back seat of the car.

As the girl walked around to the driver's seat, Mike settled in for the forty-five minute drive back to where he could rest. Mike painfully wished that the fainting episode was a one time thing; a fleeting occurrence that could fixed with some sleep, and the avoidance of the woods for the time being. Of course, Mike could never stay out of the woods; they were his home, where he felt most comfortable to be himself, to be what had always been deep inside of him, brewing throughout the conformity and pressure of life during high school.

The woman got back into the car, shifted into drive, and pulled back onto the road, quickly reaching the speed limit. The two sat in silence for a moment before the girl started with "I'm Jessica, by the way."

"Mike" he responded, try to hide himself behind the mountain of luggage. Even in the near darkness of the car, he still felt shy being in such close proximity to another person with no way of escape, especially after the events in the woods. But he best he could do was hide the left half of his body up to his chin without being blatantly obvious.

They drove for a few miles, Jessica glancing up at the rear view mirror adjusted to Mike. He sat there self-consciously, feeling her eyes pick him apart, shredding his clothes and skin, trying to dig deeper, trying to find out the mystery of this bloody, dirty stranger in her car. No matter how much shifting Mike did of his self and clothes, Jessica's inquisitive eyes still saw threw him.

Finally, after a few silent moments, Jessica spoke. "You look familiar, but I just can't tell from where. Were you ever on TV?" Mike sat in silence at the question, shocked by it's presence in the car. Gathering his thoughts, he answered simply "No". Realizing that he should play it off a little easier, he continues "Not that I know of. You never know who's got a camera on you, trying to find some dirty laundry." He even added a little chuckle at the end of the light joke. Jessica smiled and refocused on the road ahead, guiding the both of them to the final destination of this trip.

Mike walked down the halls of Woodville High School, making his way to English. English was his favorite class; reading these great works of literature and pondering the deeper meanings to all of it. Too many of his classmates looked at the things on the surface; just took them for what there were. Mike did not; he was always questioning what the author meant by that phrase, or what symbol that object was intended to be. The rest of the class just looked on like Mike was asking about quantum physics. They didn't understand. They never understand.

With Mike's classroom in sight, he heard a call to him. Even in this crowded hallway, he knew the shout was for him. These things were always for him.

"Hey faggot! Suck any good cock lately?"

Mike continued forward, ignoring the comment. Only a dozen feet or so separated him from Heaven. The people near him tried to move, disassociate themselves with the freak. The kid's bullets were aimed at Mike, but no one doubted that they could be next.

"Hey, gay boy! I'm talkin' to you!"

Mike pushed on, only moments from reaching the door. Suddenly, a hand pulled on his collar, knocking him off balance and slightly choking him. He stumbled backwards, slamming into a locker. A pain shot through his neck and the back of his head. But before Mike had time to react to the pain, the voice produced a body, which was face to face with him. Steve tightly gripped his arms and held Mike against the locker. Steve's posse stood behind him, blocking the outside world from the horrors going on here.

"Fucking queer. You need to learn some fucking respect. You answer me when I talk to you!" Steve spat, throwing a quick knee towards Mike's groin. It missed hitting anything vital by millimeters, instead glancing off of his hip bone. Mike hoped from mercy by pretending it was an accurate attack, but the result wasn't what he intended.

Wincing in the slight pain created when his knee was struck, Steve said "Looks like I made the fag hard. You like pain faggot? How about a little more!" Steve dropped an elbow onto Mike's shoulder, knocking him to the dirty floor. But before another strike could be thrown, a shout reached up over the group of jeering boys and pulled Mike out of the pain.

"Hey! What's going on over there?" Suddenly, two pairs of arms scooped him up and placed him back on his feet. "Nothing. This kid just tripped and we were helping him up," Steve said innocently, backing away to allow room for the teacher.

The teacher walked over to Mike, who was struggling to catch his breath and keep his head up. "Are you okay?" the teacher asked, grabbing Mike by the shoulders. Mike gave a glance to the bullies on his left, all of which were slowly edging away, except from Steve, who gave a stern and threatening look to Mike. Mike turned his head back to the teacher, but couldn't find the words. All he could manage was a "wha...?"

"Mike, are you okay?" Still, Mike did not answer. Mike closed his eyes, hoping to clear his fuzzy vision. "Are you okay Mike? Mike?" The teacher's voice was curiously high pitched. Mike opened his eyes to find that he was staring at his feet in a cramped Camry with Jessica turned around calling his name. They were parked on the side of the road. Jessica must have stopped when Mike wasn't responding to her.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. I must have passed out again...or something." was all Mike was able to sputter out.

"Are you sure? You kept mutter something about English class, some one named Jeeves and getting hurt. Were you dreaming?" Jessica questioned, looked back at Mike with concern.

Mike's frustration came to a boiling point. "No! I just fucking passed out! Now get me the fuck back to town!" His face was red with anger and his breathing heavy.

"Sure. Fine...sorry." Jessica turned around and started the car back up. As she pulled onto the road, Mike offered his apologies.

A breath escaped Mike. "I'm...I'm sorry, I'm tired and...and I just need to get back home and sleep." Mike bowed his head in sincerity.

"It's fine, don't worry about it. I've felt the same way you have before. And I have some good news. I figured out where I've seen you before." Mike swallowed hard and his gaze became intense. His hand went down to his jacket pocket and his fingers curled around the handle of the knife. Trying to hide his heavy breathing, he said "you do?"

"Yeah, I think so. You went to Woodville High, right? Class of '03?" Mike's grip on the blade lessened as his fears of discovery did. "Wait, Jess Yater? From Mrs. Fallon's homeroom? And Spanish?" Mike began to laugh in surprise and shock; this was Jessica Yater, the hot blonde voted to be the next biggest super model in the world, right next to Tyra Banks. Mike couldn't believe that the girl he had a crush on for four years of high school was driving him home!

"Yeah! I haven't seen you in forever! How's it been?" Jessica asked, just as surprised, giddy and shocked as Mike was.

"It's been good. I've, uh, I've started my own business, doing what I've always wanted to do since high school." Mike said slyly.

"That's great! What does your business do?" Jessica asked, unknowingly putting Mike on the spot again.

"Oh, you know, I do this and that, trying to help out the community. I work mostly with people."

Jessica gave a slight laugh. "Weren't you, like, the most socially awkward and shy kind in school? How could you ever work with people?" Mike gave a quick laugh and responded through a smile.

"Oh, you get used to it. Besides, I only need to spend a few minutes with each person to do my thing. Even a shy guy like me can do this work." Before Jessica could ask another, possibly damning question, came back quick with a "So, did you ever pursue that modeling career you wanted?"

Jessica's smile faded a little and she averted her eyes from Mike as talked. "Yeah, I got a few shoots here and there before I gave it up. No matter what people say, it's pretty tough work, and it's hard to get a job. I wrote it off as a pipe dream and tried going after something that could pay the bills."

"Don't worry, I'm sure what photo shoots you had were done fantastically, and you'll succeed wherever else you go, even if you end up having to say 'you want fries with that?'" Jessica laughed a little at the comment, and Mike could tell it alleviated the sadness inside of her. That was one of his abilities; alleviate someone's pain, take away their suffering, send them to a much happier place. Mike checked his watch; twenty minutes before he would be safely back home and put this entire ordeal behind him.

Mike stopped behind the folding table set up under a small canopy. Pots, pans, a propane stove, and dry goods were littered on the table, covering nearly every square inch. The mess these people made; couldn't be harder to find the lighter fluid. Mike's head snapped to his right as the man slowly walked back to the tent. He wrestled with the zipper for a moment before finally going back in. Mike moved into action.

Carefully, he rummaged through the cooking table, searching for the lighter fluid, or something liquid and flammable. After a minute of picking through the pile of kitchenware, he let a profanity out under his breath and looked around the campsite for a new course of action.

Peering through the darkness, he scoured the campsite, not finding anything he liked. Mike looked under table he was originally searching, praying for a flammable liquid. Suddenly, a glint of metal caught his eye; it was the rounded metal of the propane tank fueling the stove above. Quickly Mike sprung into action, not wanting to delay the horrendous plan.

Mike deftly unscrewed the hose leading from the filled propane tank to the heating elements. Carefully, Mike cradled the tank over to the tent, making sure no sound was heard by the sleeping couple inside. Slowly, he laid the vessel down and spun open the handle. The gas came out of the hose, creating a high-pitched sound, like the air escaping a pinhole in a balloon. Only this balloon was deadly.

Knowing that the couple would wake when the sulfuric smell became too powerful to ignore, Mike opened the valve as wide as possible, and stuck the hose in a small opening along the zipper line. Peeping through the mesh window of the tent, the air began to haze over as the thick gas permeated the air.

Mike's hands shook in excitement as he reached into his pocket and removed the book of matches he had been saving. Quietly, he unzipped the tent and lit a match well away from the leaking propane. Replacing the lit match in the book, he watched as the rest caught fire, popping as a small pockets of gas reached the flames. He stood there for a moment, a wild smile reaching across his face like a wide river, before slowly stepping backwards.

Mike's eyes never left the tent as he slowly moved backwards. And that strange grin never left his face either. He moved just far enough to be missed by the now ballooning flames that reaching out to touch the evil that lived inside of Michael.

Mike did not move the entire time the walls of the tent shot their flames into the night sky, obscuring even the brightest stars with their intense red fire and choking black smoke. He stood in the clearing, watching the tent shake and rattle, hoping that it was his trapped victims who squirmed and writhed like worms after a storm, and not the wind that was causing the movement.

"They didn't know what hit them" Mike said in a monotone voice. Mike opened his eyes and looked around; he was in the Camry, covered in luggage. Jessica, looking back at Mike through the mirror, stared at him in astonishment, her mouth hanging open and her eyes wide open.

Her shock was evident in her voice as she stuttered out "You....you're the...the..."

"Yes, I'm the man they call the 'Campsite Cooker'," Mike said darkly, slowly reaching down to his sweatshirt pocket, "I'm the one setting fire to everyone around here. That's why I was out tonight; I was lighting people on fire." Mike had moved into a more frank tone, calmly telling Jessica how everything happened.

"But, but Mike! You almost always had a smile on your face in high school. You were always laughing and joking with your friends. What happened?" Jessica was bewildered now, not focusing on the road and her speed so much as on Mike, who's fingers were now curled around the handle of a sharp blade that was ready to do it's job.

"What happened? What the fuck happened? Where the fuck were you fifteen minutes ago when I spilled my fuck life out to you!?" Mike's calm tone gave way the emotions he had been storing for years; all the hate, the anger, the pain, the suffering, the sadness, the rage, all were vomited out.

"I'm tired of looking through the eyes of a fucking liar! That kid in high school, the one you knew who smiled when he was punched, laughed along with the jokes about him, made up a funny excuse when he went home with a black eye, that wasn't me. This is me. This man who lets others know how much pain they caused him. What I've been doing is my retribution, my revenge, my payback. Steve had his time, now,... now the time is mine!" Mike slowly became crazed during his rant, losing track of everything but his emotions and words. Unwittingly, Jessica had sped up to a swift 95 miles per hour, creating a dark green and brown blur outside of the windows.

Jessica, in awe of her current situation, mindlessly said "Mike, you need help. Let's just go back to Woodville, we can go to the police, te-" Mike sharply cut her off with a "Fuck that!", and with one fluid motion, flipped the blade out and held it against Jess's neck. A droplet of blood was let out. It slowly made it's way down to Jessica's neckline, disappearing in the fabric, leaving it's indelible mark on her.

Frightened by this sudden show of violence, Jessica stepped on the gas pedal even harder. The speedometer raced up to 120 miles per hour and left the needle quivering. Jessica was breathing heavily, her entire body shaking as Mike leaned over the seat, his face right next to Jessica's ear.

Jessica finally was able to calm herself down enough to speak. "A-Alright, M-M-Mike. Ju-Just tell me what you want me to do." Jessica's eyes never left the road as it sped beneath the couple.

"Just keep on driving. Just keep on driving." Mike said, a glint of evil in his eyes. Mike looked over to Jessica, a hungry smile on his face, and a sly look in his eyes. Jessica's eyes darted to Mike, then back to the road a few times before Mike said "You know, you're pretty when you're scared."

Jessica began to gag, her body convulsing. She tried to keep her head up and her eyes open, but it was impossible. She looked down slightly and felt the knife dig a little deeper into her throat.

"Hey hey hey! Stop that, or I'll fucking cut your throat open and make you stop!"

Jessica gagged one more time, but that's all that was needed. As her eyes closed for .742 seconds, the car had moved 138.165 feet. 153.871 feet ahead was a slight right curve because of a 32.52 foot cliff that it road along. The wooden guard rail protecting the motorists was 23.8 years old, and this particular section had termite damage. By the time Jessica had opened her eyes, it was too late to even react to what was in front of her, let alone try to avoid it.

Jessica let out a high pitch yelp and Mike called out "Oh shit!" as the car shattered the wood and went nose first over the edge. Mike dropped his knife from the impact, and gravity forced Jessica to relinquish the steering wheel. Fate was in control of their voyage now.

Everything was now in slow motion. Jessica's eyes were shut tight as her arms moved back, creating the score hand motion used in football. Luggage, bags, and random personal items became suspended in mid-air, some even spilling their contents. The clock blared "3:19 A.M.". And Mike knew he was going to die.

His life began to replay itself in his mind. From his earliest childhood memory to his latest kill, it all boomeranged back to him, emotions and all. The excitement of killing 2 couples in his second hunting. The pain of watching his parents fight after coming home from a baseball game with his dad to see his mom kissing another man. The thrill of getting an A on his Unit 3 Geometry test. The anguish of his prom date standing him up and going with the varsity running back. All these thoughts and feelings came back to him in a split second, all mingling and coagulated together.

The car landed hard on its nose, causing the air bags to deploy and set a shock wave up the entire frame. The hood crumpled and became a mountain range as all of the windows shattered. Mike and Jessica were violently flung forward, as were most of her things. With a creak and a groan, the car slowly tipped over with a final crash. And then, nothing.

The entire forest was still, not even the wind or a tree moved. Animals frozen in fear from the loud noise stared in the direction of the crash, ready to flee at a moment's notice. A few rocks and pieces of somethings fell down the slope and onto the car. Suddenly, the driver's side door was flung open. The animals scattered and the trees, seeing that they could now move with the wind, did so.

Groaning, Jessica crawled out of the car, nursing an injured shoulder. The door moved to a half-shut position behind her. Carefully, she stood up, wobbling as she fought to gain her balance. Her eyes closed and her breathing became loud, deep and fast. Her eyes opened to look at her now totaled car. Swallowing and clearing her mind, she began to think straight. She looked at herself, making sure there were no serious wounds. Once she was sure she had nothing else to worry about, she looked around, hoping to see a sign of civilization.

As she looked for home, a rummaging sound came from the car. Looking down, a battered Mike had crawled halfway to the open driver's side door. His nose was broken and cut, profusely bleeding. His arm was bent at a weird angle at the elbow, and his other arm covered his ribs. Mike labored for breath, fighting the pain every moment.

Mike tried to speak, but couldn't; only grunts and sighs came from his mouth. Finally, he spat out some blood and spoke. "Jess...Jessica, wait," he said in a whisper, wincing with every word, "Jessica, hold the door for me." Just as he finished the last word, a small fire broke out near the engine.

Jessica just looked at Mike, daggers shooting from her eyes. She looked up at the fire and back at Mike. Coldly, she turned around and limped off, leaving Mike alone in the flaming remains.

With all his strength he called out "Jessica! Jessica! Don't leave me here to die! Jessica! Help me! Please!" His begging did not phase the girl. She trudged off, using the cliff as a guide back to the road. She looked back only once as she left, to watch as the fire reached the gas tank, and exploded, scorching the land around it. A few smaller explosions caused by the various items in her bags occurred, but she had already made it back to the road.

Updated: 04/21/09 9:02 PM 2 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!

This is the third installment of The Ballad of a Ghost, as presented by TheThing's Fireside Story Telling Circle, and for those who missed the previous chapter (or the first), here's a link to Chapter 2, which has a link to Chapter 1 in it. (Please, don't read any further if you care to read Chapter 2 for yourself) In Chapter 2, we saw the demise of Mike; with his girlfriend cheating on him, and no friends left besides Steve, Mike feels he has nothing left to live for. So he drives off a bridge into the lake where he and Jen first met. Let's see what it's like to be dead, and what happens now that he's at the bottom of the lake.

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Mike flew through the air, merging with the sky. His wheels spun freely as the only road in front of him was a fluffy white cloud. Mike took a few seconds to look around and enjoy the feeling of being free from the constraints of life. Mike stared out of the windshield, loving the feeling of being level with the sky; of being part of the sky.

But as soon as the thrill of soaring began, it ended. Mike's car began facing downwards, towards the dark, murky waters of the lake. Mike's roller coaster had peaked, and was now about to go down the rails straight into the splash pool. But this ride didn't end with an attendant recanting instructions over the scratchy microphone.

When the car slammed into the water, Mike wasn't prepared for the kind of impact that it was going to have. Luckily, the seat belt intervened, allowing Mike to stay conscious for the last phase of his death; the descent to the bottom of the lake.

Water began pouring in from everywhere, filling the old car. Mike just sat there calmly, as if he was just on his way to the supermarket, or to school, or to any number of places. Soon the water was up to his knees, the water forcing his pants to stick to his legs. Mike's foot was still on the gas pedal, even though the engine long ago lost the ability to take in air.

By the time the water was up to Mike's chest, he could only see passing lake weed a fish or two out of the windshield, and mostly the same for the side windows. The car continued to sink in a free fall.

The water reaching his neck, Mike reached down with his right hand and tightened the seat belt, not allowing him to escape his chosen fate. He knew he might panic when he was struggling for air, but he couldn't back down now. He had committed to this path, had told and shown everybody what he was doing, and didn't want to waver. Because he knew that if he wavered now, people would only remember him as the man who tried to end his life, but didn't go through with it. Ironically, he couldn't live with himself knowing that's what people thought.

Mike was now completely submerged, holding his breath as the car glided to the bottom. Mike sat there calmly, thinking about the constant and consistent beatings from every one at school. He thought about Jen, sweet Jen, and how she turned out to be a lying, cheating, cold bitch. About how when he wanted to change, everyone turned their back on him.

The car softly landed in the muck of the lake, jostling Mike a little. He still held tightly to the steering wheel, as if he was now in a submarine. But soon after landing, Mike began to lose his breath. He began his struggle to free himself, swim up. He couldn't suppress the natural reaction to get air. Luckily, the seat belt trick he did earlier worked, as in his panic, he couldn't release the nylon rope that tethered him to his coffin. Soon, there wasn't enough oxygen in his muscles for them to move, and his brain was shutting down from the same problem. Mike's vision began to fade, as some lake weed wafted by, and a few fish began exploring the new home.

Mike's body fought to stay conscious, although it was a losing battle. He let his head slowly fall forward. The seat belt prevented his body from completely slumping over, but left his head staring at his feet.

As he finally drifted into death, a piece of lake weed drifted onto his foot and wouldn't move...

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Mike was suddenly awake. His head snapped back into its former position against the headrest. He released his hands from the steering wheel and looked at them. They seemed real enough, but he couldn't be sure. He looked out of the windshield and realized that he really was underwater. He was in a car, underwater, and fully awake.

He tried to take a breath, but couldn't; he had forgotten how to breathe. At least, Mike thought he had forgotten. He didn't feel the need to breathe, and didn't want to breathe. And as if he hadn't remembered what happened before the moment he woke up, he said softly, "I'm dead". He thought about actually not being alive, and exclaimed again "I'm dead! I'm dead!"

He let that idea sink in. He had been successful in what he set out to do. Mike unbuckled his seatbelt, releasing his body to move freely. He tentatively put his hand up against the back of his seat; it went through! Mike slowly glided through the seat, and came out the other side. He smiled; "Holy shit, I'm a ghost" he said while looking down at his seemingly still whole body.

He swam back around to get into the driver's seat, when he saw his body. He jumped back and gasped at the shock of seeing his dead self from another perspective. His body was still slouched over, but the hands had slipped from the steering wheel. Mike's mouth hung slightly open, as if he wanted to tell something to the lake, the fish, the people that will be swimming in it, his eyes were glassy and hollow, staring at the gas pedal. Mike's ghost could not tear its eyes away from the horror that confronted him; he wasn't ready to see something like that.

Mike, both tired of his grave and not wanting to be with the body that it held, Mike tried to go through the metal of the car. He ended up hitting his head and not passing through to the rest of the water. Mike, bewildered by just occurred, tried to push his arms through. It was futile, but it proved to him that he wasn't getting out of his car in any fancy way. He went for the door handle, but his hand only passed through. Once again, Mike clawed at the handle, hoping that his ghost would find some traction and grip the handle. He couldn't and yelled and screamed and let god know that he was a fucker for doing this to him.

Exhausted, or whatever ghosts feel that comes close to the feeling, lamely fell into the backseat and slid as far away from his body as possible. Unable to even look in front of him, he turned his head to window, to watch the dark, dirty water float past, as if he was a child on a long road trip with his family.

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Mike had plenty of time to kill in the muddy cedar water of his lake. With the inability to sleep, he had hours upon hours of silent waiting for Jen, his parents, anyone to uncover the terrible deed he perpetrated. He stayed in the backseat, still unable to face the thing he had created in the front seat, the thing that was slowly getting more monstrous every time Mike caught a glimpse of the driver's seat.

After idle thoughts of the outside world became dull, Mike reached between the front seats, turning his head to avoid the driver of the ghost car, and turned on the radio. He knew it would be to no avail; his hand would either go right through it or it just wouldn't work. But Mike was shocked to hear white noise pour through the car's speakers, scaring fish away at the sudden disturbance. Mike hit some buttons, but nothing came in. He reached the end of the spectrum of frequencies, when he got a faint noise. It was a woman's voice; she was talking about a local homeless man who was clearing road kill from the streets, and how some thought he was being helpful, while others thought it was disgusting, since it was thought he was eating it. "Great," Mike said, "a fucking news station." He fell back in the seat, leaving the radio to quietly spew the useless facts to the underwater community. Defeated, he thought back to his death notice to Jen.

He reviewed his essay in his head, recalling every line. To Mike, that suicide note was the one perfect thing he had ever done. Then his thoughts came to the last line: "I'd tell you to forget about me, but you already have for long time. Goodbye." Mike suddenly had a new last line, a better one. But in his moment of inspiration, he became filled with rage at how true the sentence was. "I don't care that you deserted me, what really kills me inside is that I would still die for you."

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Mike had his fun letting the small fish swim through his extremities, and watching them sprint away in fright as Mike's ghastly chill passed through them. But a tidbit of the radio caught his attention.

"....And now we have confirmation that at least one person is at the bottom of Lake Deprimo. Earlier, it was reported that a guard rail on the bridge, which was not received any repairs since 1983, was found broken by, what we are now told, a car. It was discovered around 4:30 this afternoon by Jonathan Hunt, who..." The rest of the report faded away, and whether from the radio or Mike's mind, Mike didn't care. He was going to be saved! He smiled broadly at the thought of escaping this damnation.

Soon, a diver located the old Mercury. He flashed his light through the darkness of the water and the now waning day light. He saw Mike's body, with it's face a pasty white and eyes staring into the void. The diver, a little taken aback, moved on, inspected the rest of the car for anyone else who Mike might have taken with him. When he was satisfied, he swam back up to the surface. Mike waited anxiously for the diver to return with a harness to bring the car back into the air, onto land, back where he belonged.

The diver returned, bringing another rescuer with him, along with a thick, bright yellow harness. The tandem hooked up the sunken vehicle, and gave a hand gesture to a relay at the surface, most likely meaning it was okay to haul the car up.

The crane brought Mike up as slowly as he sank so long ago. As he rose up, he saw the brilliant search lights piercing the water, digging down in the lake to free Mike. Divers floated around him, gently kicking their legs and monitoring the progress. Some turned away as they caught a glimpse of Mike's body.

When the car began to surface, flashes popped in the night sky as a cacophony rose from the crowd of reporters and spectators. Water slid off of the roof and down the sides of the car, distorting the view. The car rose higher and higher, and eventually it was suspended above the water, way above Lake Deprimo and level with the cab of the crane.

The operator carefully swung the car around, and placed it on the bridge. More pictures were taken. News men and women took notes and talked into the massive camera, which was trying to get the best shot of the disaster. Typical news crews, Mike thought, forgetting that he couldn't be heard by the general population, trying to get the most gruesome angle of me to shock viewers and get some ratings.

Soon, the rescue crews got the door open with a quick shimmy of the door handle. The remaining water in the car poured out onto the road, forcing the surprised bunch to hop back. Mike's body lamely leaned to the left, letting his arm slide out of the driver's side door. The pale flesh and soaking clothes released on of the most terrible stenches, and caused many to turn away, and some even vomited, adding to the putrid stench in the air.

Mike, seizing the chance, sprinted out of the door, closing his eyes as he came past his body. He braced himself as he reached the threshold of the door, but nothing happened, besides Mike falling onto the wet pavement. He straightened up, and looked around at the news vans, the fire trucks, EMS squads, the crowd. Lights were everywhere, illuminating the entire area, casting strange shadows on the woods and lake.

He looked back over the crowd, searching for a kind, familiar face. None were to be had. Suddenly, he noticed huddled mass in the back. He walked through the crowd of people, all of whom got goosebumps that they attributed to a wind, and met the group. It was his mother, collapsed on the street, crying. She lay there, tears staining her face, snot and spittle dripping onto the street, mumbling "Why...why God....oh God, why?!". Around her, family friends and neighbors comforting her, some even crying themselves. Mike could only stare at the group, trying to fully grasp what he had caused in the hearts of these people. Mike just couldn't feel and understand the pain that he created by trying to end his. He tried to speak, but he could only stumble out a "Mom..... Mom, I'm...."

That was when he noticed Jen in the group comforting his mother. Contempt began to rage in Mike like a storm. "How the fuck can you try to comfort my mom when you'd rather comfort that fucking guy!?" Mike yelled at Jen, knowing that his rage would transcend the boundaries of the living and dead.

Jen looked up, as though she heard Mike. Had she? Jen looked around, searching for the voice, but didn't find it. But Mike took that time to look into her face, into her eyes. There was fear in her eyes, but also sorrow and pain. Tears cascaded down her face, smearing the make-up, and her lower lipped trembled as she labored to breath through the misery that sat in her throat like a mountain of sand.

Mike came upon the realization, in that moment, that Jen really did love Mike. He knew that she really did love him, and always had, even when she was with that guy last night. Mike now knew why he was left on Earth; not because he committed suicide, but because he had killed. Killed the love for Mike that was embedded in Jenny, and Mike was determined that he would fix that.

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Stay tuned for Chapter 4, out sometime in the future. I know this Chapter is a little shaky; I was running out of creative steam, and towards the middle of the Chapter reflects that. But I tried to finish strong. Bonus points for those who guess what "deprimo" means

Updated: 10/05/08 10:03 PM 2 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!

Brian, still groggy even at 1 in the afternoon, rolled out of his bed with the sheets still around him. His only alarm was the incessant ringing of his phone. He tripped over the sheets and landed on his face. He got up and stumbled to the phone as it reached its 6th ring.

"Yoooo, Brian! That party was the shit! I can't believe you could drink that much!"

That was Brian's best friend, Rory, and right now, Brian wasn't thinking of him as a best friend.

"Yeah, neither could I. Now fuck off, I've got a fucking huge headache and I'm tired as shit right now."

"Yo! Don't back to sleep! I got something to take some of the edge off that headache. Come over to my house if you want some." Rory said. He was the kind of kid who watched too much TV and played too many video games; he believed the most extreme of any situation was going to happen, and right now, he was thinking the phones were being tapped because Rory and Brian were widely know pot users.

"Yeah, thanks. I ran out of weed 2 days ago. Or was it 3? Whatever. I'll be there. Just give me an hour." Brian hung up the phone before he could hear Rory's scolding because of the word "weed" was used over the phone.

Brian moved over to his alarm and set it for 1:55 PM, then fell asleep back in his bed.

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Brian stirred from his sleep only after his alarm had gotten to such a fast, loud, and high pitched beeping that he had to turn the alarm off if he wanted to have some sanity. But as he was about to fall into bed, he remembered that he was supposed to go to Rory's house to smoke some weed.

He quickly got undressed, for he had fallen to sleep in his clothes from the party last night when he got home at 4 in the morning, then redressed into some kind-of clean clothes.

He pedaled his bike to Rory's house. He was still in pain from the headache, and the bright afternoon light hurt his eyes, so he rode slowly down the street.

When Brian rolled his bike into Rory's garage and dropped his bike to the ground with a reverberating thud, he didn't bother to go around to the front door; he just went in through the door right in front of him. Rory didn't care; Brian and him were best friends, and even if he did care, Brian didn't.

Rory was already getting the bong ready when Brian was able to find him in the basement. Brian said "You got enough shit for the both of us?"

"Yeah" Rory didn't bother to look up; he was too concentrated on the bong.

After half a minute of silence, Rory said "Ready. I'll light it." And so he did. They didn't bother to try to make a game out of it; first person to lose a hand of poker had to take a hit, try to make up a sentence with more than 10 words, but without the words "the" or "a", and others were the ones they used to do. But now, smoking weed was forth on the list of necessities besides water, food and sex. They just wanted to get their hits and trip.

After multiple hits from each, they began to trip. They both just sat around, watching DVD's of Aqua Teen Hunger Force and doing more hits. Then they began to hallucinate; Brian saw a purple half crab, half dog running in circles, trying to nip its tail with its claws while Rory saw a green monkey masturbating to the covers of the porn magazines strewn about. After more hits, they just sat around and continued to watch TV, and hallucinations went away. Brain glanced up at the clock; 3:48 PM. He didn't care. He was happy; his headache was gone and he was able to laugh at things that wouldn't have been funny to him.

But he was beginning to get the munchies. So he got up and slowly walked up into the kitchen. He stood there for 3 minutes, trying to remember why he came up. And when he remembered, he went over to the freezer and looked around. After searching, he was able to discover a box of microwavable burritos. It was buried in the ice, and Brian struggled more than he should have to get it out.

When he did get the box out of the freezer, Brian fumbled with the flap leading into the box. He tried to pull it, push and finally, when nothing succeeded, he cut a hole through the top of the box with a knife he found. It wasn't a hole so much as a gash that Brian had ripped bigger.

Brian finally was able to get to the burritos inside the box. He took one out, and tried to throw it into the microwave. But after 6 tries, Brian realized he didn't have the microwave door open. He tried to pull the door open, but was unsuccessful after straining for a couple seconds. He tried punching the door. If Brian hadn't had so much pot, he would have been in too much pain to continue. But he did, and was finally able to find the button to open the door after randomly hitting the microwave.

He put the burrito in, still wrapped in the plastic baggy it came in, and hit some buttons on the keypad of the microwave. Luckily, he had enough sense to hit start. Unluckily, he walked away and headed back downstairs to get some more bong hits before Rory hoarded them all in his body system.

10 minutes later, when Brian got hungry again, he went up stairs to look for some more food. Rory called to him "Do I look high? And could you get me some Doritos?" and continued watching TV, just about forgetting what he asked and letting out a laugh at Judge Judy.

When Brian got to the top of the stairs, he said "Alright", and went over to the kitchen. He saw some smoke pouring from the microwave and a smoke alarm going off. Barely noticing those distractions, Brian began to slap the microwave in order to get it open. When it did, smoke was released from the chamber, and most of it went into Brian's face.

Brian coughed, but still groped around the microwave for whatever was in there. He put his hand on it, pulled it out, then yelled in pain as the feeling of the burning plastic being fused with his hand began to reach his head and threw the badly burned and melted burrito, which hit the wall and stayed there. A stream of curses came from his mouth as he tried to figure out, as best he could in his current state, how to stop the burning.

He wiped his hand on his shirt, but that only caused his hand to stick to his shirt. Brain frantically tried to pull it off, but it didn't come. The new, sudden pain had slowly brought some sense back into Brian, and his high was wearing off.

After a minute or 2 of pulling, Brian's shirt finally ripped, and the now sober teenager had a holey shirt stuck to his third degree burned hands. Not knowing what to do, he ran back down into the basement, and rolled down the last 4 stairs. He quickly got up and literally shook the injury off.

After a minute of Brian patting and crying, Rory asked "Yo man I think we still got some weed in the bong, if you want some."

"Fuck the weed, you fucking douche bag! I got to go to the fucking hospital. Give me your fucking car keys!" Brian yelled, holding his hand.

"Oh, sure. Do I look high? 'Cause I feel so fucking high right now." Brian didn't even bother to answer as he ran back up the stairs and into the garage, tapping the button to open the other garage door. He got in the car, and awkwardly put the keys in the ignition with his left hand.

As he neared the hospital, the pain in his hand was subsiding into more of a throbbing pain. He still didn't feel up to using his right hand to drive, so he continued to the hospital using his left hand to steer.

When he got there, he showed his injury to the check in nurse, who marveled at it in a fake tone as she took down the information Brain knew.

Brian then sat in the waiting room for an hour and a half, hoping to get treated and stilled high enough to look at the kids magazines. When he did finally get called, he was treated as quickly as possible, but he still had to stay overnight at least. He didn't want to; he knew his parent would freak if they found him here. But they did.

Brian's parents ripped him a new one, especially since they found out he did it when he was high.

"And did you learn anything from our talk?" Brian's mom said after the 45 minute rant from his parents.

"Yeah," Brian said, giving up any fight in him, "never make a microwave burrito."

Updated: 06/27/08 11:45 PM 0 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!

I've been incredibly busy. I've been doing my research paper for like the last week, and that, along with my job, other school work, and what social life I've been able to cram into my schedule has gotten in the way of my Newgrounds time. And GTA IV has gotten in the way of all of it. But that's outside the point.

I was able to finish it with a projected 92%-96% on it. I didn't really complete it, but it could pass as finished. But I also quite my job (my last shift is on June 3), so I should have more time after school for Newgrounds. I'm a little sad to leave though; I made a good friend in my co-worker, and don't really want to leave. But whatever; I'm going to work there again in September.

I'll now also have time to finish up What To Do When You Are Dead. Yes, the story continues, and yes, Chapter 3 will be done within 2 weeks time. It's just that with the school year closing, teachers are adding a lot of work to try to raise grades, and I'm falling victim to that extra work.

So now I should be back more often and for longer periods of time, although very slowly at first. Which means even though I'm not posting, I'm still watching over you, waiting for my chance to slit your throats and rape your corpses. Not really. Unless, of course, my lack of forum time has damaged me to the point of not caring about it anymore. In which case, that sucks.

Updated: 05/31/08 7:59 PM 3 comments | Log in to comment! | Share this!